A Forger and Archer walk into a bar
by Symbioticdeath
Summary: The damned tattoo started it all. A Thor/Inception crossover. Part 4 of Hilarity Ensues. Darcy/Clint, Darcy/Eames, Darcy/Arthur, Arthur/Eames.


The damned tattoo started it all.

Clint prided himself on knowing Darcy's body. The story of how she got the moon shaped scar under her right knee from drunken tricycle racing at the tender age of sixteen. How she had a cluster of freckles on her left shoulder blade that formed the constellation Gemini. At first he thought the tattoo was for him, which caused all sorts if internal freaking out until he got a couple of good looks at the letter in the middle of it.

A medieval styled 'E' instead of a 'C' lay entwined with English Ivy on her skin. It wouldn't have bothered Clint as much if the location wasn't so intimate. Black ink mocked the archer from its place on her left side. Right under the curve of her breast, heart achingly intimate with the explanation of a 'wild month in London' with a slight smile and nothing more. He avoided kissing there because he felt he didn't have a right to.

He knew that she kept souvenirs from ex-boyfriends. A targeting lense from one of Cougar's scopes dangled from fishing line in their window. A full shelf of annotated books with postcards shoved into them from another named 'Artie'. The milk crate next to her turntable with a piece of college lined paper taped to it that read 'Taken from Cheating Hipster'.

Those things never bothered him because he knew the stories. He'd trained Cougar back when they both were snipers in the military. The two went for drinks whenever the Loser was in area on break from work. Artie was the boy she'd dated her sophomore year in college. The cheating hipster Clint knew from the first Thor incident. In fact, he'd been the one to see the fallout when the Intern found out. She'd marched out of the guy's place with the milk crate and head held high. Somehow all of these things fit perfectly in her room and under the night sky he'd painted for her.

Except for that damned tattoo.

* * *

Clint knew that SHIELD had been looking into dream warfare ever since Intel of a successful Inception reached Coulson's ears. SHIELD hired on Dom Cobb to train Extractors then insisted that they bring on the rest of his team. Ariadne and Yusuf were more than happy to rejoin their team leader. The unnamed Point Man and Forger took up the missing part of the team and Cobb became insistent on working only with them.

So now Clint sat in an expensive suit across from Natasha in her gorgeous little black dress at a restaurant that was probably in Stark's pay grade waiting for the Point Man named Arthur Smith. They'd been seated near the alcove where Arthur Smith would be dining that night with a guest.

Natasha ordered them wine while he fiddled with his silverware.

He wondered what Darcy was doing.

Moved his fork to the left.

Natasha glared at him.

"Target has just arrived," Coulson's tinny voice said in the archer's ear. "With guest."

Arthur Smith's not what Clint expected. Young and impeccably dressed. Slicked back hair and wiry body. Youthful face complete with fine features. Hawkeye noticed about six knives hidden on the boy's body before flicking his eyes over to look at Arthur's guest.

Darcy held onto Smith's elbow. Clint's mouth went dry when he saw how her green dress hugged all the right curves and accentuated all the right features. In that moment that he noticed Smith's tie was the same hue. Blood red lips drew his eye when Darcy laughed while Smith pulled out her chair.

"You have to admit that they're a rather striking couple," Natasha said after they'd ordered.

"Not helping, Tasha," Clint ground out, torn between continuing the Op and marching over with self-righteous male fury. "How long before the bug is activated?"

"A few more seconds," Coulson answered. "And we are online."

"-Artie," Darcy's voice sang into his ear. "You totes can't hold a grudge every time he does that."

Arthur Smith was Book Shelf Artie.

"There has to be other ways of research," Arthur protested. "He always has to do things in his own way."

"He's very hands on with his own messed up moral code," Darcy answered. "He can't Forge unless he immerses himself in the role."

"Why you never stayed an Extractor I'll never know. The Oxford job was flawless," Arthur stated after he'd ordered tapas for them. "You even managed to corral him."

"We both know the reason. It has to do with you and him in a broom closet," the Intern retorted. "And I'm even still a little angry at him for stealing you. Got over it once I realized he actually liked you."

"You're one of his projections. You'll show up in the middle of a job to help us. I was a little mad over that until I realized it helped rather than hurt," Arthur told her. "He's fighting tonight."

"I'm in heels and a dress that will rip if I run, Artie," Darcy said. "Plus he said he never wanted to see me again."

Clint wanted to know who 'he' was. He wanted to know why the fuck Darcy hadn't been listed in Arthur Smith's known associates or why Cobb hadn't mentioned her. Natasha kicked him in the shin to prompt him to eat.

"I know you have a bug out bag in your car with a sensible outfit. He waxes poetic about you in bed when he's been drinking," Arthur replied. "I've spent the past six months living with your ghost, Darce. It's haunted him since you two fought."

"Fine, I'll go. Wait, you're using me as a distraction. Totes not kewl, Artie."

Clint felt the rage bloom in his chest. No one used Darcy as bait. He reached for the gun under his arm but Natasha kicked him with a sharp heel. Fuck that hurt. She glared him down as if to say 'I'll castrate you if you break cover.' He settled down and tried not to stare.

Darcy rested her chin on her hand as Arthur Smith leaned back in his chair.

"I am. The Mark can't know certain details and your pretty face should throw her off," Arthur explained. "She has a thing for pit fighters she can't have. I obviously lack the equipment to make her jealous. Plus your grandpa is Captain America, you can't ask for better back up."

"You miss the Girls, Artie, I just know it," Darcy laughed. "Even if you went all darkside."

"They were pretty nice in Paris," Arthur agreed. "I heard Jake's getting married."

Arthur tapped on the table three times before he tilted his head.

"Yep. We've been planning it for a while now. BRB FBI, Artie," Darcy announced after she got up. "Have to powder my nose or some such cliché."

Once Darcy disappeared, Arthur Smith pointed at Clint then crooked his finger. The archer obeyed by sliding into the seat Darcy vacated. Arthur took a sip of his wine then rested his hands on the table.

"I don't know who you work for or why you're here but here's what you're going to do," Arthur said while he eyed Clint. "You and your lady friend are going to leave."

"Or?" Clint baited.

Arthur Smith smiled.

Clint felt a sharp sting in his calf.

Then it all went black.

* * *

"Clint!" Natasha's voice cut through the dark.

An echoing crack then pain.

His cheek stung.

Bright light.

"Do you feel foolish, Barton?" Director Fury's voice cut through the buzz in the archer's head like a knife. "You better rally because your girl managed to elude us and help 'Artie' escape."

He sat up. The restaurant was devoid of customers and employees. Coulson stood behind the leader of SHIELD as the leather clad man sat at a table that held a full meal. Dom Cobb sat across from Fury, wine glass in his hand.

"I told you he was the best," Cobb stated. "I can't believe you hired Darcy."

"She came attached to Doctor Foster," Fury explained. "Care to fill us in, Agent Barton, on how your girlfriend knows about dream sharing? Cobb here won't tell us since it is an exclusive group and they won't turn in their own."

"No idea," Clint answered.

"William Tell is the Forger that Arthur Smith and Darcy were talking about. No surprise is that the fights are being held near the docks. Wheels in fifteen," Natasha informed him. "You'd better go suit up, Clint."

She'd changed into her leather cat suit complete with Widow Bites. He managed to get on his feet then followed her to the van where Coulson had been using for surveillance. He stripped quickly and redressed in his gear.

"She's not cheating on you," Natasha stated. "Her body language indicated friendship even if they do have a past."

In some odd way, it quelled the knot in his stomach caused by that particular thought. Like Nat knew the flow of his thoughts. They hadn't been partnered up in close to a year since Clint began to take recon missions and Natasha paired off with Colonel Franklin Clay. He'd only agreed to this mission because it was local and technically recon. Outside of being an Avenger, he no longer flung himself into danger.

"You always know what to say, Nat," Clint said. "I want to know who E is."

"You want to know who E is," Black Widow repeated. "What does this have to do with the mission?"

"Darcy has an E tattooed on her. And Artie is Arthur Smith, one of her exes," Clint rambled off while he checked his gear. "They dated in college."

"And she won't tell you who E is. Barton, she lets you sleep in her bed every night and packs your lunch every day. Quit it," Natasha scolded. "Darcy is about as devious as a koala."

"She has a bug out bag in the trunk of her car," Clint groused.

"Look who she's related to. Jensen the Wonder Hacker," she retorted. "And she's dating you."

He mulled over it in the van. Coulson outlined the plan when they got close. Natasha would lead the squad that would drop in from the roof to cause chaos. Amidst the chaos Clint needed to tranq Arthur Smith and William Tell.

The heat of the room nearly caused him to buckle as the scent of blood, sweat, and rage inundated his nose. Men crowded the edge of the ring while their betters sat in balconies with beautiful women. Two platforms stood at opposite sides of the ring where the fighters and their handlers waited for things to begin. Darcy stood next to Arthur Smith while they waited for William Tell. Hawkeye waited behind a concrete pillar for the signal. He winced when the crowd roared.

Gone was the green vixen dress with its sexy heels. In its place were skinny jeans and a large atrociously colored paisley button up shirt with what looked to be her favorite steel toed boots. Arthur Smith stood next to her in his immaculate suit and slicked back hair. The Intern's chocolate waves tumbled over her shoulders as if it knew how to be the exact polar opposite.

Natasha comment about them being striking came to mind.

Day and night.

Time and tide.

The crowd split down the middle when it came time for the fighters to be brought out, its roar increased after the first fighter marched out. Built like a wall made human; the man rivaled Thor in height. Crescendo came only after the first fighter entered the ring. The second fighter parted the crowd easily on his way to the platform. The archer measured the man up. Only a little shorter than Arthur Smith but taller than Darcy. Body of a back alley brawler with skin tattooed. The man smirked darkly at Smith but his face lit up when he saw Darcy. She smiled back only her expression seemed to say 'There you are. I was looking for you.'

A proverbial knife twisted in Clint's heart.

It sank deeper after Hawkeye zoned in on a patch of skin that peeked over the top of William Tell's khakis. A D with English Ivy screamed at him from its spot above the man's hipbone; it matched Darcy's perfectly. William Tell bent down and kissed Darcy chastely. Clint felt like he would vomit if he wasn't on an Op. Tattooed Lover Boy said something against Darcy's lips before he leapt into the ring. Arthur Smith rolled his eyes then stopped and scratched the back of his neck. Tell bounded over, slugged his opponent in the face. The man fell to the mat with a thundering crash that echoed over the crowd. Darcy strode down the stairs of the platform with Smith and Tell behind her. The trio made for the locker rooms as Clint melted into the crowd to follow them.

"A buggering hit squad. Who is after us now, Pet?" William's voice echoed over concrete and metal.

"Totes have no clue, Eames. Did you piss off the Russians again?" Darcy's voice rang clear.

"The Russians are always pissed at him," Arthur said. "Something about a missing Faberge egg."

"Darling, it accents your Paris flat amazingly. I think the source of irritation may have been the time I nicked one of Lenin's manuscripts," Eames retorted. "Best graduation gift I could think of."

"The rest of my class got BMWs, can't bring up a missing manuscript in conversation," Darcy laughed and Clint slunk closer. "I liked the gift you got me for my bachelor's degree better."

Someone snorted.

"A month in London is nothing to scoff at, Darling. I will see you at the rendezvous, yeah?" Eames' asked.

"Don't be late," Arthur ordered.

A door slammed on the far side of the locker room.

The archer presses his back against metal then delicately rolled to peer around the corner and flicked the safety off the tranq gun. Darcy leaned against the lockers with Eames bracketing her with his body.

Too close and too intimate.

"I'm sorry, Pet," Eames said. "I hate it when we fight."

"Then you shouldn't have been such an ass," the Intern snarled. "No me gusta, Eames."

"What was it over anyway?"

"I wouldn't be an Extractor for you and you asked me to marry you."

"Right. Apologies, Darcy. Too late and all. I am a not nice man."

"Understatement of the year. At least Arthur loves you," she said after he rested his forehead against hers. Clint saw a tear fall down her cheek. "I really wish I could hate you."

"I wish you could too," Eames' eyes slid closed. "It would make things a lot easier. Isn't that right, Jack Boot?"

Clint stepped out into the open, gun still at the ready. His girlfriend turned to look at him and he braced himself for a cascade of excuses. Instead she watched him like he was the target she would be aiming for. Any other guy in any other circumstance would probably go at least six shades of pissed off. Clint liked to think he broke the mold. Eames moved to block Darcy with his body.

"We have five minutes before Natasha comes through here," Clint stated. "Explanation later?"

Darcy nodded.

"You have piss poor taste in blokes, Pet," Eames commented. "I thought you were over the military thing after that Spaniard."

"It would explain you," Darcy shot back. "Rendezvous is star spangled."

* * *

If anyone ever told him back in his circus days that Clint would be spending brunch with Captain America, a disreputable Englishman, the love of his life, and an impeccably dressed assassin he'd have laughed until his ribs hurt. Steve buzzed around the table, refilling drinks and trying to subtly pry information out of the three, who looked everywhere but at each other.

"I'll BRB," Darcy announced when she saw Clint. "Eames, no scandalizing my grand padre."

"I make no promises, Pet," Eames replied. The Brit's smirk indicated he intended on doing exactly that.

She led him to their room or what had originally been her room before he'd basically moved in after a mission went south a few months previous. She turned to look at him, pulled the purple sleeves of her sweater over her hands and bit her lip.

"I don't know where to start," Darcy confessed. Clint kept silent. "Like I had no idea everything would go shit show last night. I just thought I was meeting Artie for a Catch Up dinner then maybe the fights because Eames wanted to apologize and now replaying everything in my head I realize it looks really awful."

He weighed her words. The agent watched her as she moved around the room. All nervous energy and cautious steps. He never thought about her past too deeply aside from the exes and academic achievements. Instead he found it cruelly ironic that she'd been involved in something way more Top Secret than the Avengers.

"Say something!" Darcy shouted. "Yell! Tell me you're leaving me!"

"Why would I leave you?" Clint asked.

"Because I went behind your back to have dinner with an ex-boyfriend then went to watch Eames' fight," she answered. "I totally understand if you do. I can't explain it. He's just Eames and I can't get him out from under my skin."

It echoed through Clint.

"Who is he to you, Darce?" Clint shifted in his boots. He hadn't taken the time to change once he'd finished debriefing. Director Fury's rage nearly followed him home. "Who am I to you?"

"He's my first love. You know the one person you'll make a fool of yourself for," Darcy explained. "You're my present and hopefully future."

He understood perfectly.

Eames was her Natasha.

He moved towards her, stripped off the leather gloves so he could feel her skin. She folded into him and it was like coming out of the rain. She clung to him so he kissed her softly only to have it turn to something brutal. He laid siege to her lips until a polite cough came from the doorway which caused him to stop.

"Don't stop on my account," Eames' accented voice seemed to mock him. "Lovely ceiling. Who painted it?"

"I did," Clint answered after he let go of Darcy.

"Splendid brush work, luv," the Brit commented. "An Avenger, I find myself rather outdone."

"The ego on you rivals Tony's. Clint, this is Eames. Eames, this is Clint, my boyfriend," Darcy introduced. "For formality's sake."

"Pet, Cobb and a Director Fury are currently in your kitchen having a cuppa and looking like they want to start World War Three. Why don't you go on down? I just want to have a word with Clint," Eames told them. He sauntered over to the bookshelves. "I promise no brawling."

"I'll hold you to it. Place nice, boys," Darcy warned before she left.

The two eyed each other.

"Clint Barton."

"William Eames."

"You get one free shot, luv. I owe you that much," Eames told him. He picked up a book from the shelf. "She's brilliant, our Darcy."

"She is," Clint agreed. "Get to the point, Mr. Eames."

The Englishman quirked an eyebrow before he placed the book back down. It irked Clint that the gaudily dressed Forger looked perfectly at home in Darcy's room. It hit him.

They were the same person.

"You're the same person," Clint voiced.

"On the mark, Hawkeye," Eames stated dryly. "I'll wager that our Darcy didn't divulge how we met all those years ago. Walked right up to me in a pub and asked to know what my poison was. In England with her grandmother visiting family, celebrating her eighteenth birthday and believe you me, I carded her. Led me on a merry chase after that first night and she's been stuck with my acquaintance ever since."

"She threw Lucky Charms on me," Clint told him. "Why did you want her as an Extractor?"

"Darcy can still dream after going under so many times. Yusuf's theory is that it has to do with her superb DNA and I enjoy working with her," the tattooed man confessed. "Also asked her to marry me. Not a smart move."

"Why'd you break up?"

"Same person, luv. It became volatile and when it wasn't that, it was boring," Eames explained while he completed his circuit of the room. "Why did she pick you?"

"Going to have to ask her," Clint answered.

* * *

"What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Lewis?" Fury asked.

Clint sat next to Darcy in the sparse boardroom. Director Fury glared at the Intern while Coulson stood behind his boss. Something didn't feel right and the archer couldn't put his finger on it.

"How did we get here, Director?" Darcy asked as she leaned back in her chair. Her movements were too smooth, like the environment shifted with her. "What do you remember?"

The look of puzzlement on his boss' face made Hawkeye try to remember. He'd been in the kitchen while Eames and Arthur served everyone tea or coffee. Darcy merely stood off to the side in her ugly paisley shirt while Steve looked like he was two steps from a massive freak out since dream working ventured into 'weird' territory for him, of all people.

Clint couldn't remember how they got to the boardroom.

"Well played, Miss Lewis," Fury said. "We're in a dream."

"Two deep actually. But that's just me showing off," Darcy replied. "We'll resume negotiations topside. This will hurt."

The Beretta materialized faster than Clint could reach out to stop her. One shot sent Fury to the floor. Darcy placed the gun on the table then spun to look at him. Her eyes roved over him in some sort of appraisal.

"That will have made him angry. I hope Arthur will be able to deal with him," Darcy commented before she leaned in to brush her lips against his.

It was all wrong.

"You're not Darcy," Clint accused.

"Quick one you are," Eames' voice passed Darcy's lips. "Usually I am better at this but I can never get Darcy or Arthur right."

"Perception is probably off," the archer offered up.

Eames shifted back to his body. He kept the jeans and shirt his copy of Darcy had worn.

"This is going to go fast."

The last thing Clint saw was the barrel of the Beretta.

* * *

His face stuck to the wood of the kitchen table from drool. Clint peeled himself off before sitting up carefully. Arthur was instantly by his side with latex clad hands to pull out the needle in the archer's hand. On the other side of the table Darcy taped a bandage to Eames' arm while Fury looked on with a sour expression on his face.

"I think we should begin negotiations," Arthur announced when he was finished bandaging Clint. "Unlike Cobb and the rest, Eames and I are independent contractors now. So we've decided to use representation."

Arthur stripped his hands of the gloves then went to packing up a machine in a silver case while Eames went to help him. Fury crossed his arms and Darcy cracked her neck. Steve looked like he wanted to pass out.

"You and me are going to have a long talk about your associates," Steve told Darcy. He pointed to Eames. "Especially that one, doll."

"You got it, Grand Padre. Negotiation time," Darcy said and perched herself on the counter top closest to the stove. "All the warrants Eames and Arthur have on their heads need to vanish including the ones they have under aliases. Also I need the warrants for Darcy Eames to go away as well."

Clint found that really, really hot.

"Darcy!" Steve exclaimed. "You have warrants?!"

"Done," Fury agreed.

"They are willing to help with militarizing the subconscious of all SHIELD operatives as long as they are compensated. Their consultation services are up for negotiation after that is done and I think you could set them up with the same package you did for Jake and Cougar," Darcy said as she swung her legs. "What say you, Eye Patch?"

"I can't argue with that, Miss Lewis, but I have an addendum," Fury answered. "You take over the training of Extractors since Mr. Cobb has requested to return to his family and I have a feeling these two won't work with anyone else."

"I'll do it if you get rid of all my student loans," Darcy stated.

"Can't do that, Pet. Happy early Birthday," Eames announced. He smiled crookedly at her and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Your face will stay like that, Darling."

"Then I want Agent Barton as the liaison," the Intern said.

Fury nodded.

* * *

Arthur found him on the roof. The Point Man in his waistcoat and expensive shoes provided an interesting foil for Eames with his loud shirts. Clint knew the boy, well man, next to him wasn't armed because he respected Cap's Household Rules. The archer nodded and took one of the beers Arthur brought with him. Below them Darcy and Eames sat on the patio with a bottle of wine and bag of chips between them, talking softly in Spanish.

"I must apologize for drugging you at the restaurant. It was bad form," Arthur said. He spun the bottle between his hands. "I didn't know you were Darcy's man."

"I've decided that last night was a training exercise," Clint replied. "I'll call it even if you give me the name of your shoe guy."

"Deal," Arthur agreed. "You're taking this surprisingly well."

"Knew there'd be a reasonable explanation," Hawkeye replied. "Anything I've missed that I should know?"

"Darcy loves you more than I think you know and you should never hurt her. Did she ever tell you about Cheating Hipster?"

"I observed the break up," the blond man confirmed. "Beyond that the details weren't important."

"We were in New Delhi when Eames took off without a word," Arthur took a sip of his beer before he continued. "I followed since Darcy called me after she called Eames. I managed to catch up with him in San Francisco before we drove to New Mexico. He broke the kid's knee caps. The job would've squared our books for the better part of a year."

"What did you do to the poor boy?" Clint asked, knowing full well he wanted to know so he could figure out the suit clad man better.

"He now has some interesting scars," Arthur smiled. "They're soul mates. Not in the romantic sense but in the one soul divided into two bodies. It's why they'd never work out and why they love us."

Clint thought of Arthur's words as he stripped down for bed. He'd taken to getting changed in his armory for appearances sake. He pulled on worn black flannel bottoms that hung low on his hips before he climbed the stairs to Darcy's room. Arthur and Eames were in the guest room next to Clint's armory so sleeping on the floor there was out of the question.

His heart relaxed a little when he saw one of his faded shirts on Darcy as she lounged with a book on her bed. The paisley shirt hung out of the hamper and didn't seem as sinister anymore.

"Coming to bed?" Darcy asked blue eyes met his own over the top of her book. "Or are you still annoyed with me?"

"I was never annoyed," Clint told her after he slid under the comforter next to her. "Just lacking the Intel to make an informed move."

"Sorry again," she offered. "I love you."

"I love you too. Any other exes I should know about that are Eames quality?" He asked as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Or any other marriage proposals that aren't mine?"

"Nope. Wait, are you proposing?"

"Do you want me to propose to you?" Clint asked and part of him hoped. He never thought about it formally. They just were Darcy and Clint.

"I want you to propose to me eventually just not at this point in time," Darcy answered carefully. "I know you've been totes settling down from what you used to do and there is no one else for me, Clint, but the concept is too big."

"So we'll continue living in sin until you make an honest man out of me," Clint asked as he snaked a hand under the hem of her shirt. "I like that idea."

She dropped the book on the floor when he dragged her down.

Screw the tattoo.

The End.


End file.
